


Green-Eyed Winter

by The_Kapok_Kid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Romance, Winter, jily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Kapok_Kid/pseuds/The_Kapok_Kid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily is vibrancy in winter, sparkling emerald and crowned in flames. But James has a monster in his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green-Eyed Winter

**Author's Note:**

> An old drabble, padded up into a one-shot because I rather like it.

Hogsmeade is ensconced in a blanket of snow. It lies on every rooftop, drops in a frosty shower from every tree, casts pretty patterns of frozen ice on every window pane, crunches on each gravelly footpath beneath his shoes. There is a Christmas tree in the town square, bedecked with holly and floating candles, wrapped around with streamers, shimmering with live fairies.

But James sees nothing. There is a monster in his chest.

He draws his crimson woollen scarf closer, and tiptoes, fleetly and silently, around the corner leading to Honeydukes.

There they are.

The snow is trampled into powdery piles beneath their boots. Their breath rises into the air; higher and higher it spirals, seemingly reaching the darkening skies.

She smiles, leaning against his arm, and he – _impudent bastard_ – catches her around her purple-scarfed shoulders.

James takes an infinitesimal second to notice how Lily Evans’ hair whips around her face and shoulders, a wave of flame streaming loose from the beret about her ears. His brow then lowers and his eyes begin to spark as a peal of pure laughter escapes her lips, and she taps _Remus Bloody Lupin_ affectionately on the elbow, and leans in for a kiss.

The world explodes in a white-hot shower.

James storms forward forthwith.

He is arrested in his tracks when, having kissed Remus Bloody Lupin on the forehead, she does a right-about-turn and makes straight for him.

A smile threatens to break through the storm clouds.

Those clear green eyes regard him carefully, taking in his sodden coat and overshoes, the reddened nose, the flushed brow.

“Potter,” she says nonchalantly, and nodding, strolls away towards the crowd surrounding the Christmas tree.

James deflates like a pricked balloon.

The storm clouds are back.

“So,” James says through gritted teeth, having reached Remus Confoundedly Annoying Lupin, one-time best friend, “she has no qualms about kissing you, but she can’t kiss me!”

Remus Lupin shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you were not watching us.”

“What if I was?” He does not mean to sound aggressive, but the words tumble out faster than he can catch them back.

Remus Lupin opens his eyes. “And you do know she would have figured out exactly what you were doing? It won’t endear you to her, you know.”

James glares, directing all the ferocity he can muster at the other pair of brown eyes before him. “You aren’t her boyfriend, either. And I know she’s very particular about this type of thing. Why did she kiss you then?”

Remus Bloody Lupin sighs. “She kissed me on the forehead, Prongs,” he replies, wearily. “It’s an advantage of having been friends with her for the past six years.”

“But I’m the one who really _loves_ her!”

His erstwhile friend holds his gaze. “Does she love you back?”

James pauses. His silence is answer enough.

“And you cannot ask a girl who doesn’t like you to kiss you, James. Or even speak with you, for that matter.”

James slumps. Truth resonates in every word of Remus’ answer, but that does not make it any more palatable. He glares miserably at the fairies, now swirling in a cloud above the Christmas tree. “What is it that she likes about you and not me? Whatever I do to _make_ her like me, it never works!”

“I don’t do anything to make her like me. I don’t think it works like that. I just treat her like I would any other friend – with respect, and a listening ear.”

James scowls. “You don’t even try to impress her – it automatically happens. I bust my brains out trying to think of ways to get her attention, but she’s intent on ignoring me.” He kicks the snow so hard his shoe dents, and he feels the monster in his chest writhe in satisfaction. “I’m always overlooked,” he complains, and does not for the moment care that he sounds petulant. “I heard she even gave Quidditch duty to Regulus Black and that Ravenclaw bint, when I should have had it by right of seniority.”

Remus sighs again, breath clouding out before him in little puffs of steam, and this time, James is not deaf to the undertones of irritation in his friend’s next words. “And do you really think that going around hexing Slytherins – nasty though they are – is going to impress her?”

“That’s some very complicated and advanced magic in those spells. I’d have thought it _would_ impress her.”

“She isn’t the type to be impressed by any sort of brawling, James, as you should have gathered by now.” Remus’ smile has a sardonic edge, his lips twisting at the ends, and James balls his fist inside his pocket.

“But they aren’t _unprovoked_ attacks, are they? And Merlin, whether she wants me or not, I’ll not stop hexing any insolent little bastards who have the nerve to slight her parentage.”

“And therein lies the problem.”

James head snaps up, and whips around swiftly, so swiftly he earns himself a crick in his neck. Rubbing it and swearing under his breath, he locks eyes with the darkening chocolate pair before him. “What?”

“You and I know the attacks aren’t unprovoked, James. But does she? She only sees you hurting people arbitrarily. Maybe you should parade less of your actual hexing prowess and accomplishments, and be a tad more open about the reasons you do it.”

“You’ve never tried to stop me hexing them before, have you? Why not? Not possessed of much of a spine?” James says cruelly.

The shutters fall down behind Remus’ eyes. “That was my mistake,” he says softly. “But I am telling you now…it – it’s important, I think.”

James stiffens. “I will not have her thinking I do what I do out of pity for her because she – she’s Muggleborn.”

“That is a risk you will have to take. If she has any sense – and I know she does – she will know that pity does not come into it. All she sees now is your supposed arrogance.”

“I will not tell her outright.”

“As you wish. But at least, don’t cover it up under a veil of bloodlust.”

James shifts his weight, and considers that the hollow feeling in his stomach may have lessened slightly. “And you think that will put things right?”

The corners of Remus Newly Reinstated Best Friend Lupin’s mouth turn down. “I don’t know. She isn’t wilfully blind, and anyone with a mind can see how dangerous our little junior Death Eaters are. She may not acknowledge it at once, but it’s a start.” He gathers up the stray strands of sandy hair floating across his forehead and tucks it away in his cap. The bauble at the end bobs as he nods. “She may come round to you in time.”

“ _In time._ Yeah, what a comforting thought, that.”

Remus’ shoulders slump slightly. “What else can you hope for? It’s something, at least. And before you ask, no, this is not a date. We went book shopping together.”

“Yes, right outside Honeydukes.”

Remus shrugs. “She likes ice mice.” There is a warning in his eyes.

His jaw clenches at the thought of Remus correctly guessing his next question, and the monster laps eagerly at the heat spreading through his blood. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

It is Remus’ turn to stiffen. “You do not own her, James. Stop behaving as if you do. It was a spur of the moment thing. I met her at Scrivenshafts’ and walked her back.”

The ends of Remus’ lips tighten, whiten, and pull back into a straight line. “And stop snapping at me. I’m not the one to blame in all of this.” With a final spark of the brown eyes, he turns and leaves, going down the path towards the square, snow crunching underfoot.

The streetlights come on, illuminating the flurries of snow that begin to fall. It lands on his boots, on his shoulders, on Remus’ incongruously swinging bauble, and in the distance, on the fiery red that crowns Lily’s head.

James stands, rubs one foot against the other, and watches.

Remus is not halfway down the path when Lily looks up from the fairy display. Tiny fairies circle around her head, a halo of bright light above her hair. Her eyes light up, sparkling and ethereal emerald when they land upon Remus.

James watches as she laughs and beckons, slender fingers outstretched in invitation for a companion who is not he.

And James goes back to seeing nothing. There is still a monster in his chest.


End file.
